Crisis at Christmas

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5th September 2021

2021 has continued to be difficult for lots of us due to the ongoing pandemic. More than ever, we've been reminded how much we depend on each other for connection, hope and support, and of the importance of a safe, secure home. Sadly, this Christmas thousands of people will be alone with nowhere to call home – and many will be experiencing their first without a secure and safe home this Christmas.

At Christmas and throughout the year, Crisis helps people directly out of homelessness and campaigns for the social changes needed to solve it altogether. Each Christmas we mobilise a unique volunteering effort to provide warmth, companionship and vital services to people facing homelessness.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of our Crisis Christmas centres. Back in 1971, Crisis volunteers hosted our very first 'Open Christmas' with shelter and food for people experiencing homelessness. Fast forward to 2021, and volunteers are still as integral as ever to our work during Christmas.

No one should be homeless and alone this Christmas. Your gift to Crisis at Christmas can help someone take their first steps out of homelessness and towards rebuilding their life.

Your gift of £29.06 can help provide a hot meals and a Christmas dinner, advice, companionship from volunteer befrienders and year-round support including training and education. It can help someone to end their homelessness – for good.

"It is a worthy and noble cause," mum calls from the en suite. "Thank you. I appreciate your nosiness," I say, rolling my eyes at her prying into my laptop. I'm sat propped up in bed nursing yet another cold this year. The duvet is covered in rolled up tissues scattered around like confetti. I'm layered up in my Dumbo onesie, a hot water bottle is nestled closely to my chest and I'm casually sipping on a honey, lemon and ginger tea. None of the above is working, hence the reason why I decided to prowl the internet for some unique remedy to kick the germs out of my system. Another advertisement decided to invade my scrolling, this one was different though. A charity that enables a homeless person to have a proper Christmas, a decent meal, counselling and a bed for the night. It does seem like a sweet idea and it would keep my mum off of my back with her comments about my selfishness. I log in to my online banking account, it is five more days until payday and I only have £602.53 to my name. I realise that I still haven't paid off my credit card for the Ibiza holiday that myself and my best friend Steph went on in July this year. There's the Tiffany ring I want to treat myself to, the Gucci bag and the new SatNav for my car. My hand hovers over the mouse for a second, I think I'll have to give this charity thing a miss for now. I will just make it a New Years Resolution to do it for next December. That and also to quit the cigarettes. I shut down the laptop, placing it down on the chair beside my bed as I take a healthy swig of my tea. It is dull and completely tasteless. The steaming hot Olbas scented bath I had twenty minutes ago did nothing to curb my shivering. This is a bone cold chill. The toilet flushes and I hear the faint sound of the tap running. I'm steadily preparing myself for yet another lengthy lecture from my mother. "Darling, now that you are back living under our roof can you please assert yourself in a more tidier fashion?" Mum frowns in the doorway, hands on hips. She has not long returned from a meal out with one of her girl friends at the Ivy in central London. Dressed to the nines in beige culottes, black shiny platform heels, a white silk cami teamed with a black and white tweed blazer jacket, with a touch of silver running through it. Her blonde bob has been neatly blowdried to frame her face and she is wearing the Swarovski Crystal pear drop earrings that my grandmother gifted her last Christmas. "This is only temporary," I croak, blowing my nose unapologetically. Her eyebrows arch disapprovingly as she bends down to collect the pile of clothes I left discarded earlier on the floor. Waving her away I stutter, "Please mum, you don't have to do that. I'll sort it out once I feel like a woman and not something out of Stephen King's Pet Cemetery." Pouting her lips, mum let's out a deep sigh as she plonks my clothes down on the chair beside my bed. "Annie, I know you are going through an extremely difficult time right now. But it is no excuse for you to start acting like a slob. You need to sort your shit out," she tuts, sitting on the edge of my bed. "That's not what I'm doing. I feel like death warmed up, the least you could do would be to give me a break for once in my life. You're always treating me like some petulant and incompetent teenager. I am twenty-five now and more than capable of looking after myself," I reply, my head starting to feel faint. "That's not what Eamon has been saying about you. Out partying until the wee hours of the morning, not answering your phone. No wonder he decided to leave," she replies, looking down at me with a stern look on her face. Her statement is like a punch in the gut. This is not the first time my mum has belittled me about the recent turbulent end to my two year marriage. "We both agreed it was for the best. No one was really at fault, we just stopped having things in common. Whatever spark there was in the beginning fizzled out," I say in the midst of a deep, chesty cough. My mind slowly drifts to Eamon and our separation. We didn't dislike each other, we hadn't had any real blazing rows, shagged anyone else or been cruel, but we were living separate lives. We weren't even sharing the same bed any more. I couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed me goodbye or greeted me with a hello. The main reason that made me realise that it was over between us was that I didn't really mind him not making an effort anymore. "Cover your mouth, I can't afford to be getting sick. I have numerous client meetings this week," she says, handing me a tissue from the dispenser. "Anyway, all marriages lose their novelties after a little while. It's not always sunshine and roses, you have to work at it. Look at me and your father," she whispers, trying to be inconspicuous. She looks over her shoulder, worried that someone might overhear. Little does she know that dad still hasn't returned home, he has gone awol since yesterday afternoon. "Yeah, I know all about you and dad. I also know about all of his indiscretions," I smile smugly. Horrified, mum practically jumps from the bed, her eyes widening in shock. "How?" She can barely find the words. "Come on, I'm not stupid. It doesn't take a genius to see what's going on around here," I reply, with yet another raspy cough. "Sweetheart, have you taken a test?" She asks softly, swiftly changing the subject. "No, I don't need to," I say flatly. I swallow down hard, stifling my urge to cough again. I am sweltering like a pig, even though my body is shivering uncontrollably and my muscles are incredibly tender. It must be the flu, I neglected to get my shot again this year. With all the drama surrounding my marriage to Eamon, some things have had to be placed on the back burner. Suddenly, my chest feels unbearably tight. I go to take a breath which turns into a wheezy gasp from the pain. "Don't start this anti-vaccine, Covid doesn't exist bullshit with me now. Where are the lateral flow tests?" She growls, storming off into the en suite. I can hear cupboard doors being yanked open and rummaged through. I suddenly don't have the strength to protest and fight with my mother. I've already made an attempt to spring clean the bathroom, dumping the last lateral flow test in the bin. "What have you done with them?!" She shouts, banging the drawers shut. "Dustbin," I manage to say weakly. A tiredness suddenly overwhelms me, my eyes stream and my head feels like it is enclosing in on itself. Mum is back in the bedroom with me, she is tutting and making some more comments about my views on the pandemic. "Seriously, you can be that selfish to just waltz in here like you're some martyr without taking a lateral flow or a PCR test. You know myself and your father are at risk with our health. Does that not mean anything to you?" I can just about make out what she is saying. The room feels like it is spinning, the deep breaths I am taking turn into violent chokes. My throat feels as though it is shrinking and squeezing itself shut. "Annie! What's the matter?" Mum comes rushing over to the bed, placing her hand on my forehead. "You're burning up, darling. Are you in pain?" She asks frantically. I just about manage to nod my head, my senses start failing me as my eyes close. I can feel mums fingertips checking my pulse rate as she gasps. "We need to call an ambulance!" I slowly start drifting off into a hazy dream like state, I feel completely disconnected from my body. "Please stay awake, baby. Someone is coming!" Mum urges, squeezing my hand with all of her might. She finally gets through to the correct department, I vaguely remember hearing her saying something about me and Covid before falling into the deepest sleep.

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